Dillan Blight: Paranormal Investigator

June 29, 2008

Sunlight played over his closed eyelids with the ferocity of a heavy metal drummer. Dillan let out a long, low groan of unhappiness, struggled for a minute, then finally gave in and forced heavy eye-lids open. It took a moment to clear the haze in his head well enough to really get a look at where he was. It didn’t look nearly as much like his office as he had been hoping for. In fact, it looked an awful lot like a ditch at the side of the road. Which did at least explain some of the throbbing in his skull. He took stock as he slowly sat up. Yep, more then just the head throbbing. Clothes torn up. A little bloody, though at least some of that blood seemed to be someone else’s.

He slowly made it to his feat and climbed up to the road to look in both directions. Nothing but winding road and trees, one lane in either direction. He checked his shoulder holster. The reassuring weight of his .357 revolver was still their. He pulled it out and checked. Still loaded too. Now he just needed his head to clear enough to remember why someone had dumped him in the woods last night. And whether they had just been too busy to finish the job properly, or if someone had left him alive on purpose. Dillan dug out a battered pack of smokes from inside his suit coat. He sighed and tucked a rather mangled cigarette into his mouth. The plastic bic lighter had faired worse then the rest of it. He shoved the remains of it back in his pocket and reminded himself to get his Zippo refilled. It held up better to his abuse.

Dillan dusted himself off lightly and arbitrarily picked a direction and started following the road. On the up side, he was pretty sure he’d not taken his hat out last night. The haze was slowly lifting. He remembered a desperate phone call from a pretty voice, rushing out into the night, and that horribly familiar flash of bright white pain that almost always meant he was in over his head. Dillan sighed and shook his head. Not a good sign. Normally the muscle didn’t start in until you actually knew what the case was about. Unless, of course, he’d been hit harder then he remembered. That was a less then pleasant thought. It might be time for a check in with the old sawbones after all.


One comment

  1. Ooooo! oooo! OOooo! You know this is the kind of stuff I love! Did I mention…oooo? We better get some more!

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